


a fresh start

by logictron



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:36:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logictron/pseuds/logictron
Summary: "That is not just a scratch/graze." Jalton





	a fresh start

**Author's Note:**

> Jaz is hurt, but admitting that to a team of guys she only just met is not something she wants to do.
> 
> Pre-series, near the time Jaz joined the team. Some definite Jalton undertones.
> 
> Now for a posting-hiatus cuz I'm off to Disney!

"What the hell did you do?" Dalton's voice isn't unexpected. She heard him coming a mile off, knew it was him from how he moved. But she tenses anyway. Maybe more, because it's him.

 

"It's fine," she mutters. "Just a papercut. No big deal." She's furious with herself. This will do nothing but give everyone fodder for teasing her, for thinking she's incapable. And she's not. She just wasn't paying attention. The knife was sharper than she'd thought, the mango more slippery.

 

"There's blood all over the damn kitchen so I'd say it's more than a papercut." He's not being mean, he's not yelling, but she tenses further anyway. Dalton sighs and that, she can't read. Not without looking at him, which she definitely doesn't do.

 

"I'll clean it up."

 

"Jaz. This may be hard for you to believe, but I don't give a shit about the kitchen."

 

She laughs softly, finally looking up at his reflection in the mirror. "No, that's pretty obvious since I've been here almost a month now and I've never seen you cook anything."

 

"Ah, there she is." Dalton chuckles. "For your information, I am perfectly capable of cooking. But the benefit to being the CO is I can just make other people do it for me."

 

"Even if it kills you," Jaz mutters under her breath, but he hears and grins.

 

"Aw, come on, they're not all that bad."

 

"I mean, we're all still alive, so there's that." She pulls her hand out from under the water and blood immediately spreads from the cut between her thumb and forefinger, dripping into the sink basin. "Dammit."

 

"Listen, you have two choices here: let me take a look or I send McG in here and leave you to his devices," Adam offers, folding his arms over his chest and arching his brow at her, waiting.

 

She doesn't mind McG. But the fewer people who know about her little mishap, the better. Because thus far, every guy she's ever worked with in her career has done nothing but point out every single weakness, every single slight misstep. So the fewer gaffs she makes, the better.

 

"Fine," she agrees through gritted teeth.

 

Dalton's hands are warm and steady and gentler than she's expecting (why is she _expecting_ anything about his hands?). The cut stings as he gingerly prods at it, scrutinizing. But pain means next to nothing to her anymore. She tucks it away in some dark corner of her mind.

 

"That's some papercut," he teases, looking up at her from under his brow, the corners of his mouth quirking upward. She can't help but smile back, just a little. God, his eyes are so blue. "The good news is, you'll live."

 

"Thanks, Doc," she snarks, tamping down on her thoughts about him and his hands and his eyes. Apparently the blood loss is worse than she thought.

 

"Should have McG take a look at it, though," Dalton says, apologetic, and Jaz swallows back her objection. "Can't have you sitting out. Now that we know what it's like to have someone competent on overwatch, none of us are willing to risk it."

 

Jaz blinks at the compliment, not sure what to do with it, but Adam doesn't seem to be expecting one. He lets go of her hand and squeezes her shoulder instead. "Hang tight, yeah? I'll grab McG." She nods. "Oh, and just so you know..." He tugs up his sleeve and there's a scar on his forearm, one she recognizes as a burn. "First week here, I got a hankering for chocolate chip cookies. My mom's. So I decided to suck it up and make a batch. Burned the shit out of my arm pulling them out of the oven and dropped the whole damn pan on the floor. Anyone asks? Knife fight in Afghanistan."

 

She watches him disappear, processing what he's said. He's definitely the most perceptive CO she's ever had. It'll take more than that for her to let her guard down and trust that the other shoe isn't waiting to drop. But it's definitely a start. And that's more than she's had in a long, long time.


End file.
